Tribes

I’ve been meaning to link to Bill Whittle’s latest essay (spurred by cries of Hurricane Katrina-related “racism”), so here goes. Read Tribes for a refreshingly blunt look at the divisions among Americans. Here’s a taste:

The Pink Tribe is all about feeling good: feeling good about yourself! Sexually, emotionally, artistically � nothing is off limits, nothing is forbidden, convention is fossilized insanity and everybody gets to do their own thing without regard to consequences, reality, or natural law. We all have our own reality � one small personal reality is called �science,� say � and we Make Our Own Luck and we Visualize Good Things and There Are No Coincidences and Everything Happens for a Reason and You Can Be Whatever You Want to Be and we all have Special Psychic Powers and if something Bad should happen it�s because Someone Bad Made It Happen. A Spell, perhaps.
The Pink Tribe motto, in fact, is the ultimate Zen Koan, the sound of one hand clapping: EVERYBODY IS SPECIAL.
Then, in the other corner, there is the Grey Tribe � the grey of reinforced concrete. This is a Tribe where emotion is repressed because Emotion Clouds Judgment. This is the world of Quadratic Equations and Stress Risers and Loads Torsional, Compressive and Tensile, a place where Reality Can Ruin Your Best Day, the place where Murphy mercilessly picks off the Weak and the Incompetent, where the Speed Limit is 186,282.36 miles per second, where every bridge has a Failure Load and levees come in 50 year, 100 year and 1000 Year Flood Flavors.
The Grey Tribe motto is, near as I can tell, THINGS BREAK SOMETIMES AND PLEASE DON�T LET IT BE MY BRIDGE.

Don’t miss the old soldier’s metaphor of sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs … and the link to video of New Orleans police officers engaged in looting.